Sometimes I’ll tell a friend a story and they’ll respond with… why don’t you blog about this? Uhm, Well, because it’s awkward? Who would want to know about this?
Well, I’m going to give it a go. If you don’t like it, blame said friend.
Note: If you’re a girl, you might relate to this.
So, a few Thursdays ago I was having one of those days. (You know, those days.) An abstract-random individual by nature, I must retreat to my war-zone of a room at least once a week for some solid alone time. With a good book, escaping the hustle and bustle of everyday life even the endless chatter from the hospital never ceases is easy. For those of us who need this, when you reach day 16 of not being home for an entire evening… things start to get weird.
Hiccup #1: I hadn’t spent an evening at home for more than two weeks.
If you’re not familiar with this particular Thursday, let me fill you in. It was game 5 of the NBA finals. My genes hail from Indiana, so you can imagine how much this must have meant to me. I mean, T and I had already been to game two – this is my city and I was invested. I’d seen the crowd putting aside its beloved crimson or orange to cheer for a team showing such promise.
Knowing I had an obligation for work, I pouted. But, I’m a professional so I put on my new J Crew orange skirt, thunder blue necklace and adorable nude pumps and pressed record on the DVR. Grounding myself from any social media, I figured I could do it.
Variables always get in the way, however. My lovely roommate has a puppy that loves to eat my stuff. Sure, putting my things out of the Dachshund’s reach would be the reasonable thing to do, but purchasing a baby gate seemed like a better solution. It was; however, until I tried to hop over it wearing my brand new orange pencil skirt.
Hiccup #2: My new orange skirt ripped.
Sigh. Good news. I bought the same skirt in white. (I’m a sucker for a sale.)
Could I make it through 3 hours and rush home to watch the game keeping my eyes turned away from tvs and my ears closed to the chatter of Thunder love? Honestly, I should have known better. I’ve seen the How I Met Your Mother Super bowl episode.
Hiccup #3: The game didn’t get recorded.
I don’t know what happened exactly, but it just didn’t get recorded. But, that’s okay because my roommate said, “It was a horrible game. I mean, they lost.”
Hiccup #3: The Thunder lost.
I have a gift. It’s true. I can control my emotions like nobody’s business. Crying just doesn’t get anything accomplished so I don’t see the need for it. I know it seems odd, but it’s true. Control can only go so far. Then, nature intervenes.
Hiccup #4: Things you shouldn’t admit on the internets.
So, what happens when you’re physically exhausted, you rip your new skirt, the big game doesn’t get recorded, your team loses and nature hates you?
You cry big crocodile tears in your living room while holding your BCBG nude peep toe pumps that you took off so you could run into your little urban casa to see the game.
You laugh because you’re crying.
You cry more because your roommate is looking at you like you’re crazy.
You laugh because it’s really, really funny.
Who cries because they miss a basketball game? Seriously?
So, I did what any reasonable girl would do. I put on my oversized Oklahoma State sweats, my ’92 Reba concert Tshirt and crawled into bed.